


Black is the Colour

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is not always that diplomatic....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black is the Colour

Part One

Black is the colour of my true love's hair   
His lips are like some roses fair   
He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands   
And I love the ground whereon he stands

The thing is that he doesn’t tell me until we are nearly all the way home to my father’s. When we have been riding for two and a half days, when we have lain together twice, when I have told him that I love him at least a hundred times and although he has not exactly returned the sentiment so ardently, he has said “thank you” and “Mark is such a fool” and “If not for Kai’s songbirds, you’d now be Hecla’s wife – what a nightmare.” And I have noted all of these as compliments and treasure them just as fervently as if he’d really declared, “Yes, I love you too, more than life itself, marry me tomorrow.”

We are breasting the hill that overlooks Yorath’s village when he actually tells me. Years and years later, one of my daughters will ask me what is the most devastating thing that a man I was truly in love with ever said to me – it will be when her own heart has just been freshly broken and she is looking for reassurance that life really does continue in some fashion when the whole world lays shattered at your feet. I will look into my daughter’s blue eyes and think “Oh my darling, if you only really knew” and instead I will give some innocuous explanation that leaves her dissatisfied and sends her away in gales of angry tears. Later that night, after she has been taken out to gallop through the autumn afternoon by her uncle and has ridden home with the first smile twitching at her lips that I have seen for weeks, I will think the same thought again briefly and then return gratefully to my everyday life.

At first I think that I have not heard Arthur rightly. When I had asked the question “What now?”, as we rode away from Mark’s village, he had answered that we would discuss it on the way to Yorath’s – and so now we have and indeed I do know exactly what is to come next in my life. It is simply that now I know that my life is over.

Arthur is looking at me very calmly and I stare back at him in confusion. When I speak, the words tumble out in a jumble of fits and starts. “Kai…..and you……but………(and now the most obvious and stupid statement of all)….but you are brothers.” “Not by blood.” Arthur is very matter of fact and practical. “It is how it is, what it is and I would gladly die rather than ever have to forsake him or hurt him in any way. I have explained to you what I could offer if we were to one day marry. I can do no more than lay out the terms.” Then he simply halts his horse, sits there quietly and waits.

Imbecilely I imagine all the things that I thought Arthur might say. That he had already fathered children with another woman (unlikely but you never know), that he wanted us to marry straight away so that I would never do anything reckless again like becoming affianced to Mark, (unlikely as well, but I was hopeful), that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east (and I was so besotted that I would have believed him). I think irrelevantly that a few days ago I dramatically told him that he had ruined my life and now that prophecy has come true. In the end I am rendered speechless anyway. I sit there, astride my horse, gazing at Arthur as if I have been turned to stone. He gives me a rictus of a smile. “Rowena, say something.” Then, when I remain sitting there, inanely mute, he begins to look genuinely concerned. “Rowena, I know this must be a surprise, a shock – but……” That is when I begin to scream.

Arthur will always vividly recall the nightmare of that hellish ride down into Yorath’s village – Rowena galloping ahead so heedlessly and blindly that he was sure she was going to hurtle over the horse’s neck and make an end to herself, her agonising wails and sobs, his frenetic attempts to gain control of her bridle and the swinging blow to the side of his head, unexpectedly brutal, that she delivered as they grappled. More than many things he hates public displays of any type and now their entry into Yorath’s village is irredeemably public and a display of the most sensational kind. Yorath comes rushing out, surrounded by a crowd of gaping transfixed Jutes, - no doubt afraid that they are being invaded by a war band of Cerdig’s most ferocious warriors. Well, the noise and clatter would lead them to believe nothing less.

Rowena hysterically flings herself from her horse and disappears at once into her quarters. Arthur sits, biting his lip, at a complete loss as to how to act. But ultimately Yorath unwittingly makes it easy. He sighs ponderously, chases away the last of the lingering gapers, and comes to stand beside Arthur as he dismounts. “So, my daughter did not take you breaking up her betrothal to Mark very well I see.” Yorath smiles. “No matter, her mood will pass soon enough. You have my thanks and my gratitude – it must not have been pleasant escorting such a sweet-tempered treasure all the way home.” Arthur’s head starts to throb. He is fully aware now that he has handled what seemed like straightforward matters in a very wrongful fashion. And he simply doesn’t know what he should do next.

By the time he rides down into the valley above his own village, two days later, his mind is no clearer. It had been relatively uncomplicated to claim that he needed to journey home without delay, to refuse Yorath’s offer of more than mead – he could not have eaten anyway - to escape before he was compelled to face Rowena again. Somehow though he is certain that she won’t say anything to her father about the real cause of her distress. It is simply not her way. Arthur knows Rowena well enough to be convinced of that much. Eventually, there will be other more likely explanations put forward to account for the unravelling of his friendship with the Jutish princess. Meanwhile, his alliance with her father remains secure and more men have been assigned to guard the gaps in Yorath’s defences. Arthur sighs and knees his horse down the slope. He is longing intensely for home – and even more intensely for Kai.

At first, everything goes well. Kai greets him with a smile and a wink that leave him weak-kneed. Llud is in a hearty mood because his old roguish friend Kurt has arrived to spend the night on his way to some no doubt dubious destination. Bathed in their warmth, Arthur tries to convince himself that everything will reconcile itself satisfactorily in time. When Llud and Kai ask after Rowena, he simply supplies a neutral bland answer. And there are other pressing matters that require his attention. Kai tells him that a messenger had arrived from Bavick a few days before and that another was expected shortly with a copy of the terms Bavick proposed for their new treaty. Arthur grimaces. Bavick would always be a thorn in their flesh – but at least he had temporarily suspended his pillaging raids against other Celts.

During dinner that night, Kurt tells his usual tall tales – which are then promptly refuted by Llud. Kai laughs freely with his father and Kurt, but his brown eyes flash across the table at Arthur with promise. Arthur feels himself grow rigid, straining his breeches. He is relieved when Llud and Kurt take their cloaks and two giant jugs of mead and drift up to the guest quarters to continue their reminiscing. When he glances at his brother, Kai’s smile makes the stars look like they have forgotten to shine.

Initially everything is wonderful – in fact far better than wonderful. They settle down in front of the hearth fire and Kai kisses Arthur in a way that makes him forget his own name. Then Kai slips his fingers around his brother’s hardness and caresses it firmly through his breeches. “Kai my heart.” In the warmth of the flames, his brother’s hair is a bright nimbus and his brown eyes shine with love – then with something else, a searching curiosity. “So little brother, are you going to tell me what really happened between you and Rowena? And I’m not asking if you lay with her since I assume that you did.” Arthur frowns and attempts to deflect the question with one of his own. ‘Well, big brother, are you going to tell me how many women you bedded while I was away?” Kai nestles his head more comfortably into Arthur’s lap and smiles. “Certainly - only the one. Elin, the fisherman’s daughter from out above the estuary. Her young stepmother offered herself as well, but I thought that enough was enough. Anyway, I was missing you far too much. Now, you may have fooled Llud who has been too busy with Kurt to notice anything much amiss, - however you haven’t fooled me. Arthur?” Kai’s gaze is level and uncompromising.

Arthur swallows. “There was a bit of trouble actually. I knew that Rowena was expecting some sort of commitment from me after what I did to Mark – a commitment that I’m not ready to give to her. So……” He cups Kai’s chin in his hand and strokes his thumb firmly across his brother’s mouth, feeling Kai’s answering shudder. But Kai is still insistent. “So?” Arthur chews his lip. “So I thought the time had come to tell Rowena about us. Let’s just say that she didn’t take it very well.” There is silence. Kai moves his head so that it is lying across Arthur’s knees and he can look up into his brother’s face. “What did she say?” His voice is very quiet. Arthur feels the cold hand of foreboding tickling the hairs on the nape of his neck. “She took it quite badly. There was a scene. Yorath thinks it was because she resented me breaking up her betrothal to Mark so our alliance is still intact. I’m sure Rowena won’t say anything to him but sooner or later I’ll still have to reconcile with her in some fashion. She will be the future leader of the Jutes, even if we never get married.”

Slowly, as if he is very weary, Kai climbs to his feet and walks over to the table. He pours a cup of mead and drinks it with his back to Arthur. Then he puts it down with a heavy sigh and turns around. “Did you think to ask me what I thought before you talked to Rowena or was it just another time when the decision was wholly yours because you are the chieftain?” Arthur can hear the edge in his brother’s voice. This is starting to not proceed very well at all. In fact, where before Kai had been lulled by love and expectant gratification, Arthur can see that his brother’s body is now stringent with anger. He rises and faces Kai who is standing, golden and fierce in the flickering candlelight. Arthur attempts to be placatory – the very last thing he wants at this moment is to disconcert his brother. “What would you have had me do Kai?” “I don’t know Arthur but not this.” Kai’s tone is very restrained and all the more chilling for it. “No actually I do know – seek my counsel perhaps, ask my opinion before speaking to Rowena. But there’s never any negotiation is there Arthur, no bargaining at all – not even in here, between us. Not even when it’s something that could affect me as much as it will you. No, it’s always simply your decision and you expect me to accept the consequences. Well, what if I’m tired of that? What if I want to negotiate? ” Arthur opens his mouth to say something – anything – but Kai plunges ahead. It is as if the portals have finally opened on emotions and instincts that have been stifled for far too long – emotions that have been wildly, relentlessly, vociferating for release.

“And how exactly did you deliver this sensational news to Rowena? No don’t tell me Arthur because I already know – you were blunt weren’t you, blunt and practical. Just as you would be if you were forging a treaty. But people aren’t treaties or alliances - they are flesh and blood. They have hearts that break and bleed. Rowena loves you. And you must have some sort of feelings for her – you were like a bear with a sore head when I bought you the news that she was going to marry Mark.” Arthur readies himself a second time to interject but again Kai affords him no opportunity. His brother remains perfectly still and absolutely formidable. “Yet, I forget - feelings are secondary aren’t they Arthur – even your own. Secondary to pacts and alliances. Well, I may not know as much about maintaining the balance of our defences as you, but I do know about hearts that bleed for love of you - by God I do.” Kai’s voice trails off into muffled silence and Arthur realises that his brother is close to tears. He takes a tentative step toward Kai, but is roughly brushed aside as his brother stalks toward the wooden hooks on the wall where their cloaks hang. Kai snatches at his heavy cape of white and ebony pelts so roughly that he almost rents it in his haste and suppressed fury.

Wrapped in his cloak, Kai turns to confront Arthur – who at last recovers his power of speech. “Kai please….I love you…..you have my heart…..and you love me – you tell me so every day, not only when we……” It seems strange to plead – he has had scant practice at it. Kai smiles sadly, his brown eyes wet with bitter salt. His words are uttered in a soft heartsick voice that is far more lacerating than anything he has ever shouted in acrimony or rage. “Of course I fucking love you Arthur. I will love and desire you when you are a toothless wizened old man who smells like a goat. And you know that anyway. As you know that you will always have my sword arm beside you in battle.” He gives a noisy heaving sob. “I’m not a prophet – simply a warrior. I don’t know what the bloody future holds and how everything will reconcile itself. But I’m tired Arthur – tired to my very core of hoping that tomorrow things will be different – that I may be your brother and your lieutenant to the world, but that in here at least we can sometimes be equals. So, I refuse to live in a fool’s paradise any longer. I refuse to put my trust in dreams of you and me. This dream is ended.” Kai is almost to the door before Arthur can manage to say anything through the bleak knot of tears strangling his throat. “Where are you going?” “Up to Llud and Kurt to drink myself into a stupor.” And then his brother is gone, out into the bitter autumn darkness.

Arthur spends a fretful sleepless night, tossing in front of the hearth fire. He can never recall such abject feelings of desolation. At dawn he stumbles outside, nauseous with worry and fatigue. Kai is already out near the palisade opening, fully dressed, mounted on his horse and deep in conversation with Tugram. Arthur feels panic rising like frost in his stomach. As he watches, Tugram lays a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm and swings onto the back of his own horse. He hears Tugram mutter “You’re a good man, Kai son of Llud” and Kai’s snort of refutation. In two flying strides, Arthur is at his brother’s stirrup. “Kai, what are you doing?” The brown eyes that meet his are icy. “I’m going to accompany Tugram scouting through the river valley. It was your idea that he go remember? We’ll be back in four or five days.” Kai pulls the reins aside, ready to knee his horse into a gallop. Hot tears sear Arthur’s vision. “Why won’t you stay?” Kai’s whisper is harsh and bitter. “Do you want the truth? Oh of course you do – the truth is always so practical. Well the truth is that I cannot bear to be anything but leagues away from you at this moment.” Arthur reels back from his brother as if he has been struck and “Hah” – Kai’s horse leaps forward and charges out, after Tugram’s, into the misty morning.

Part Two

I have not left my bed since I arrived home– since I galloped in like a demented lunatic, with Arthur hot on my heels. Since I threw myself to the ground and raced to my quarters, sobbing so hard that I thought my throat must burst open and bleed from the angry heaving. I have lain with my face turned to the wall like a grieving ancient. My life is over any way. I might as well wither away here from anguish. If I cannot marry Arthur, then I will never marry. It is as basic as that. From time to time, I have drunk a little of the mead or nibbled a piece of the bread that my attendant Christa silently places on the floor. Otherwise, I simply lay, entombed already by misery.

I have led my father to believe, between convulsive sniffs and snivels, that I am so distressed not only because Arthur ruined my betrothal to Mark, but because of the high-handed way in which he accomplished its ruin. That I am so incensed and mortified as a result that we have quarrelled all the way home and I never wish to see him again. Yorath accepts some of this explanation as true – that much I can tell – yet the part about banishing Arthur from my life forever makes him click his tongue sceptically. He thinks that if Arthur makes some token gesture of reconciliation that I will respond. Well, in time he will learn. The oddest part I suppose, is that although I would happily trample Arthur with my horse’s hooves at this moment, I do not feel hatefully at all toward Kai. Envious yes, begrudging certainly – but I of all people can understand how Kai has fallen so deeply in love and why he remains so entranced. And I am fond of Kai for so many reasons – he is one of the kindest, most compassionate men I have ever encountered and one of the most courageous.

Now, Yorath approaches my bedroom door with extreme caution. I know he is readying himself to duck a flying cup or pitcher – but he need not worry. I have lost the strength and the urge. He is as safe as a firstborn child being cradled by its mother. At the thought of children, my eyes well up again. I will be a perpetually barren empty vessel . Noisily Yorath clears his throat. “Rowena, my daughter, you have a visitor.” I pull the blanket over my head. I know what I must look like by now too – like a freak. My face is all red and blotched from weeping and my hair is matted from sweat. No doubt I smell fusty as well. “I never wish to see anyone ever again.” I sniffle. “Tell them to go away and never come back.” Yorath smiles indulgently. “Oh, I think you may want to see this one.” And then I glimpse who is standing behind him – and stupidly fulfilling all of my father’s expectations, I swing my legs out of bed in astonishment.

Arthur doesn’t know why the minstrels call it heartbreak – if feels just as if every other part of his body is broken too. His misery seems incalculable and missing Kai is an unrelenting dull ache in the pit of his stomach, much worst than the most ferocious hunger. All through that first appalling day, after Kai rides away, he waits for Llud to compound his wretchedness, by delivering one of his vehement tongue-lashings. But strangely enough it is not forthcoming. Arthur is unsure of how much or what exactly Kai has revealed to their father. Llud knows that something is afoot – Kai doesn’t just decide to go scouting with Tugram on a whim – yet, apart from a few anxious glances in Arthur’s direction, he says nothing.

That night, when they sit down to eat and Arthur hardly touches one of Leni’s succulent chicken dishes, he feels his father’s eyes looking intently at him – but their expression remains kindly. Llud gets up from the table and comes back with two large goblets of adder’s sting – a telling concession by a man who professes to only enjoy mead. He hands one to his younger son with a sigh and a bemused smile. “Arthur, I don’t know why you insist on unleashing such tempests in your life. If you thought about certain things as carefully as you would a battle plan against the Picts or a negotiation with Dirk, you – and those who love you – would no doubt be much happier.” Llud softly ruffles Arthur’s dark hair – something he has rarely done since Arthur was a child. “If you were expecting me to work myself into a frenzy, then I’m afraid that you are going be bitterly disappointed. You are doing a wonderful job of punishing yourself enough without my gall to exacerbate matters.” Llud looks thoughtful. ‘You won’t remember my grandfather. He died an old old man during the winter after you were born. But he said something to me when I was young that I have never forgotten. He told me not to continue crying endlessly when I thought the sun was gone or my tears would never let me see the stars.” He smiles gently. “If you go outside and tilt your head toward the heavens Arthur, you will find that the sky is still laden with stars.” It is only then that Arthur realises that his cheeks are wet with salt.

It is Rowena who throws down the gauntlet first. She comes riding in four days later, icy and formal - four days that for Arthur have seemed interminable. Leaping down from her horse, she strides into the longhouse. Arthur follows her, biting his lip. “So.” Rowena’s voice is like a whiplash. “This is what I am to understand. One day – and we don’t know which day, it could be years away – but one day you will consent to marry me - for the sake of our peoples and your alliance with my father.” She starts to pace up and down the room, eyes blazing. “You may be fond of me in some way, you do in fact maintain that you love me and will never ever look at another woman, but I will be expected to always share you. You will always be in love with someone else. I will never be first in your heart. You will be a considerate husband and an attentive father. And that is the best you can do. That is all you can offer.” Rowena stops in front of him. It is not often that Arthur has been verbally bludgeoned into silence. Now it has happened twice in the last week – firstly, by Kai’s quiet intensity and today by Rowena’s fury. He cannot speak to save himself, but instead attempts to nod in desperation. “Good”. Rowena sounds firm and decisive. “I’m glad that we are in agreement. My journey has not been wasted then. My choices are very straightforward.” Then she utterly confounds him. She bursts into noisy squalls of tears.

So Arthur simply lets her stand in the circle of his arms and sob until there cannot be a tear left in her to be wrung out. He feels her give a heaving sigh and then for the longest time she stays with her head on his shoulder, unmoving. At last, she straightens her own shoulders and looks directly at him. Arthur realises again that she is the daughter of a soldier and a warrior. “Alright.” Her eyes are still wet and glistening and hugely blue. He cups her face in his hands. “I wish you a long and happy life, Rowena of the Jutes. I hope you marry someone wonderful and have a longhouse full of children.” Slowly her mouth curves into a smile. “But Arthur, you misunderstand me.” Now he is completely confused. “Arthur” Rowena’s voice is so soft that it is almost a whisper. “My answer is yes. Whenever you are ready, I will be too. I choose you.”

Arthur is sitting at the table a few hours later, staring into the distance at nothing and feeling extremely dazed when Llud walks in. Carefully he pours a cup of mead and takes a sip. “Isn’t that Rowena’s horse outside?” His voice is casual. Arthur swallows. ‘Yes, she’s up in the guest quarters.” Llud looks around the room. “How much tableware do we now lack?” He looks up at his father in dawning comprehension. “None actually.” Llud comes and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The alliance with Yorath will be mended in time. He’ll be angry for a while, no doubt, but it will come right. He needs your strength and protection. Once Rowena is happily settled with a new husband, it will eventually blow over.” Llud sits down beside Arthur. “Do you need to talk about this?” He notices the quirk playing at the corners of his son’s mouth. “Arthur?” “Llud, the world is a very strange and unexpected place.” His father raises an enquiring eyebrow, now looking vaguely alarmed. “Rowena and I agreed to terms this afternoon.” Arthur is so busy shaking his dark head in wonderment that he entirely misses Llud’s smile of triumph.

It is a very strange feeling to go from profound despair to extreme euphoria in such a short time. Now that the decision has been made I am indeed euphoric but also oddly calm. It is as if I have reached a place I always knew I was destined for – followed a road that has led to the right door – yet gotten there by a route that has been entirely foreign and unfamiliar.

Just before the sun sets, I walk down to the longhouse to share the evening meal. Llud is there with Arthur but Kai, I am told, is still away scouting with Tugram and is not expected back until tomorrow. It is a very agreeable dinner and for me, quite wonderful. Arthur is polite enough, but I realise he is totally distracted. His mind is not in this room with me and his father – and I know where it is. However tonight I do not care. I have made my bargain now and I will stand by it. The first law of the Jutes is to always honour your word.

Llud is robust company and I look at him with affection. He is astute and unfailingly kind. If I was not head over heels in love with his son and he was a few years younger – well, you never know. As it is, when the meal is over and Arthur has given me a rather chaste kiss that brushes across my mouth and wished me a safe journey home – I am leaving at dawn with my two attendants – Llud offers to walk me back to the guest quarters.

The night has grown chill and I draw my cloak around me. “So” Llud says carefully. “Everything seems to have sorted itself out somehow.” He turns to me and gazes directly into my eyes. “You are certain about all this aren’t you?” I nod and then lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I am entirely certain.” The wind whips my cloak into a tangle around my knees. “I hope Kai isn’t too cold scouting up on that ridge.” I say pleasantly. Llud and I smile at each other in amused complicity. We reach the guest quarters and I pause at the door. Llud takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “Goodnight Rowena. May the gods bless your journey home tomorrow. I will no doubt see you very soon.” I watch him stride back to the longhouse. Then I throw my head back toward the heavens. The sky is full of stars and if I just reach up on my toes, I am convinced that I will be able to brush them with my fingers………..

Arthur wakes the next morning with a new stone of despair wedged tightly into the hollow of his stomach. Kai is due back today and he is utterly at a loss about how to resolve matters between them. His brother’s departing words still sear his mind like a fiery brand. There have been difficult times in the past – but nothing that he can recall that has ever felt as overwhelming as this. From just after daybreak, he loiters outside the longhouse waiting. Llud joins Arthur for a time, working at mending a damaged leather bridle. To try and distract his racing thoughts and heart, Arthur asks his father about Rowena. ‘Why do you think she changed her mind?” Llud pulls the noseband of the bridle tight. ‘She’s a woman - and as such, her mind and her motivations are often inscrutable.” He gives his son’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Now try to agree to terms with your brother as well when he arrives.” And less than ten minutes later, a very familiar black horse comes thundering through the palisade gate.

Is it possible, Arthur wonders, to be deluged by desire and love, fear and hope and recognition all at once – and knows, in one shattering heartbeat, that indeed it is. Kai looks breathtaking. Wearing five days growth of tow-coloured beard, he swings to the ground, just as Tugram gallops in behind him. Llud walks purposefully up to greet his son, while Tugram hurries across to Arthur to report that all is quiet throughout the river valley – Cerdig’s forces are now unlikely to stir outside their own territory with the coming of the snows so near. “My thanks Tugram. Now go see your wife and family.” With Tugram gone, he has no reason not to approach Kai, but still Arthur continues to dawdle beside the water trough, pretending to be interested in the minstrel’s latest inane composition. From his vantage point he can overhear some of Kai and Llud’s conversation – although he doesn’t know exactly what they are speaking about. “……..harder than I thought…….” Kai mutters to his father, unstrapping his saddle bags. “………worked alright………….I was pleased………” Llud answers quietly. “…………bloody stubborn…….” Kai gives a bark of laughter and Llud joins in. Then they see Arthur pretending not to be watching and Llud raises his voice. “You’ll want to get cleaned up. Leni’s got some hot water ready in the long house.” Kai nods and strides toward the ramp. As he passes his brother, Arthur feels a cool glance from a penetrating pair of brown eyes cast in his direction. Then the door bangs shut and Kai is gone.

Arthur joins Tugram and his wife Glan for their midday meal, leaving Llud and Kai in the longhouse. He isn’t certain but he suspects that Tugram looks at him in amused affection a few times while they consume Glan’s excellent boar and pottage. If so the cause eludes him. But for the first time in over a week Arthur eats well and drinks the honeyed mead sparingly. He is hoping, against all rational hope, that if he can somehow make amends to his brother, that he might just need to be both potent and sober…….

It is early afternoon when a boy of around twelve rides in on an elderly carthorse. He is the son of one of the shepherds from above the estuary and his father has sent him to the village seeking Leni. His mother has been labouring for the past two days without result. Arthur sees how pale and tearful the boy is and sends him to Olwen to be fed. Leni comes scurrying with her basket of remedies and signs her readiness. As Arthur is whistling for his horse, Kai pushes roughly past him. “I’ll take Leni. Llud tells me that Bavick’s promised messenger hasn’t put in an appearance yet. You had better stay in case he does arrive with the treaty and Llud must stay too. You know he is the only one whom Bavick really respects if there’s trouble.” Arthur is just wondering if his brother looks even more magnificent and desirable now that he is clean-shaven again and wearing his black studded tunic – when decisively Kai swings Leni up on to his own horse and leaps behind her. By the time, they have reached the shelter of the woods, the shepherd’s son is not the only one gazing at the world through a veil of hot helpless tears.

Five days before, when everything had shattered around him, Kai had claimed that he was no prophet. But toward sunset, Arthur is left wondering when Bavick’s messenger does indeed make a long overdue appearance. And moreover, the terms of the treaty he presents to Arthur and Llud at the longhouse table are balanced and fair. So another potential source of disquiet can be set aside with relief. As night falls, with a promise of early frost, Arthur watches Esla making the final dinner preparations and is quietly gripped by paralysing apprehension. He still has no notion of how to assuage Kai. Certainly something exceptional is called for.

Miserably Arthur concludes that his brother is right. He can skilfully negotiate treaties, he can bargain and stipulate as the leader of the Celtic alliance – but when it concerns his own heart…………He sighs despondently. Just then Esla walks past him smiling, carrying a basket of ripe fresh blackberries in a basket on her hip. The sight and aromatic smell of the plump fruit stir something in Arthur’s memory……a joke Kai had made once when they were lying sated down on the riverbank in summer………a provocative reference in one of the great books for which he gives the Greek trader silver twice a year……………Thoughtfully Arthur chews on his lip……

Part Three

By the time he reaches home,, Kai is weary and cold to the bone. At least the day has had a happy outcome – a healthy baby boy delivered late in the afternoon and the mother exhausted but still living thanks to Leni’s skills. Leni has decided to stay for a few days and ensure that the dreaded childbed fever does not take hold and Kai has promised to ride out and bring her home then. Now he stables his horse and stumbles into the longhouse on feet like lead. Everything is very quiet. Arthur and Llud must already both be in bed. But still aromatically warm over the hearth fire is a pot of Esla’s delicious wild boar stew, heady with the scents of wine and rosemary, mushrooms and sage, and his father presumably has left the generous jug of mead ready for him on the table. Despite himself, Kai smiles and goes to fetch a bowl. Suddenly he realises that he is indeed ravenous – and for so much more than the tender savoury meat that he is consuming……..But no matter. Life is not a dream. He has just taken longer than most to realise it.

For almost a week he has been thrashing about in a morass of despair. From the moment, that he stumbled to the guest quarters, seeking Llud, he has been sorry for every word he flung at his brother – no, amends Kai bitterly, from the moment that he opened his mouth and spat out the first truculent syllable. He has never felt more remorseful in his life. Certainly, it had been a dispensation of the gods that when he did reach the guest quarters, Kurt had already drunken himself into a stupor and Llud was still relatively sober. At least his father had been able to provide him with a pragmatic course of action to follow……………But as to how you start to make recompense when you have uttered the unpardonable aloud ……….Already he has compounded everything by his indefensible retort to Arthur on the morning when he rode off with Tugram - it had been the sight of his brother, so distraught and grey with fatigue, and overwhelming guilt at knowing he was the cause of Arthur’s desolation, that had snarled his tongue. Until then, Kai had been unaware that you could weep so hard and still see to ride……………….

Finally Kai sighs and stands up. He would be quite happy to sleep right here in front of the fire, except he knows that it would disturb Llud. So reluctantly he pushes through the bedroom door, already beginning to remove his sword belt and unlace his shirt. The first thing he notices is that Llud’s bed is empty. The second is that a huge fire is crackling in the hearth, warming the whole room with an incandescent glow. The third is that Arthur is propped up in bed, clad only in his breeches, and with one of his great books open across his knees, as if he has been avidly reading to pass the time. And the fourth is that his own bed is inexplicably strewn with blackberries.

Kai puts an exhausted hand to his tousled overwrought head and takes refuge in practicality. He walks across the room and briskly swats his brother’s bare feet. “Arthur, there may be some perfectly logical answer to this question that my tired mind cannot fathom, but why, for the love of fucking Mithras, is my bed full of fruit?” “Oh” Arthur looks up bright-eyed. “It’s a part of the negotiations.” Kai narrows his brown eyes suspiciously. “I am probably going to be very sorry that I ever asked this, but what negotiations?” Very deliberately, Arthur closes his book and places it on the floor. “Well, you said several days ago – and it was quite accurate – that in here there has never been any proper negotiation. That I simply play the chieftain whenever it pleases me. That I don’t bargain enough to reach agreement, but just assume I can have my way. So…….tonight and from now on, I’m going to ensure that we do negotiate - that is Kai my heart , if you are willing……if you can forgive…..” His voice fades softly away.

There is silence. Kai stands perfectly still, watching his brother’s blue eyes glisten with tears, watching his brother holding his breath, watching as if the rest of his life is hanging in the balance……. When he answers, his voice is carefully neutral – almost as if he doesn’t trust himself to speak steadily. “Alright, ….. how for instance, would these negotiations open?” Still hardly daring to breathe, Arthur takes Kai’s hand and draws him down to the edge of the bed. Behind them the blackberries tease with a fragrance of summer breezes, sweet and tart.

‘The negotiations would open this way.” Arthur whispers and gently raises Kai’s clenched hand to his lips, lightly brushing his mouth across his brother’s fingers. He feels Kai shiver. “Then I think we could parley in this fashion.” Tentatively, Arthur smooths aside Kai’s thistledown hair, delicately grazing along the nape of his neck, using the edges of his teeth almost like fingernails, tickling Kai’s shoulder where the shirt has fallen aside. Arthur’s heart begins to thud against his ribs. His brother offers no resistance as Arthur begins to suck each one of his fingers, softly applying the pressure of his teeth as he removes them from his mouth – but nor does Kai reciprocate or say a word. Apart from that initial tremor, he does not seem to have responded at all as far as Arthur can judge. He takes another deep fortifying breath and plunges ahead. This is such foreign territory, being the initiator, taking the lead………It has always been Kai who has handled such matters. “The next stage of negotiations” he begins “is always tricky because both parties…..” “Little brother?” Arthur glances up from where he is now kneeling at his brother’s side, attempting to work out how to tunnel a way inside Kai’s shirt to find one of his nipples – and feels his whole body go weak as it is flooded with infinite relief and gratitude.

Kai’s face is suffused with hot tears. “Arthur, I have sat at your side enough times to know exactly how a treaty is hammered out. So now it’s my turn. Firstly, I am more sorry than I will ever be able to express for every harsh word that I cast at you. Never again. You placed your heart in my keeping long ago – it should always be swathed in silk, and I flung it in the mud. Secondly, you must realise, you daft fool, that I have always been yours and will be until the end of time”. Kai leans forward, brushes Arthur’s dark hair back from his forehead and kisses him there, in thankfulness and love. “ Despite the fact that your behaviour may often still drive me to mead and I will do the same to you, I love you more than anything else in this world and I’m completely head over arse over tit in love as well. And thirdly, Arthur……” Kai’s wet brown eyes start to dance. “What did you actually have in mind for these blackberries because, I think that you have been concentrating way too intently to realise that I would really like – no, I really need – to do something with them fairly soon.” And he takes his brother’s hand and guides it along his lavishly abundant hardness.

Arthur suddenly grins rather shyly. “Well, big brother, the truth is that I wasn’t really sure what…………..I’d heard that crushed fruit could be used for……..That’s why I was reading that book……there are a few references but they’re rather obscure…” Kai is busy pulling off his clothes and throwing them in an untidy heap across the room. He grins too, in a way that lights up the room far more brightly than the candles – and indeed eclipses the night sky. “Oh little brother. I can see that I have been remiss in neglecting some aspects of your education. So, for the love of Christ, hurry up, climb out of those breeches and let’s get to it….”

Kai takes a generous handful of the blackberries and crushes them decisively, relishing their sweetness, then rubbing it along his brother’s lips, neck, stomach. Teasingly his tongue follows the viscous purple trails, retracing their syrupy lines – softly at first and then sucking harder as if to ensure that no sticky residue remains on Arthur’s skin. When he has finished, he smears more sweet juicy black-violet around his brother’s supple balls and erect cock – watching in bemusement as Arthur’s blue eyes glisten now, not with tears, but amazement and repletion. Slowly Kai forms a tight circlet around Arthur’s cock head with his lips and sucks off the blackberry sugar. He swirls his tongue sensuously around Arthur’s balls, tantalising by flicking it across the tip of his prick and the tender slit at the top. Arthur’s fingers grapple ecstatically against his brother’s scalp. Kai hears him give a mewl of joy. Knowing that his brother cannot restrain himself much longer, Kai strokes Arthur’s shaft in rhythm with his voracious sucking. When he comes, Arthur’s stifled bawling of his brother’s name still sounds like a paean of exultation.

“So” Arthur kisses his brother’s lips in wonderment. “That is what all those obscure references were hinting at.” Kai sleepily sips Arthur’s earlobe, fully expecting to settle down now for the night. “Well, there are other things for another time little brother.” Arthur is silent. Kai opens one eye curiously. “Arthur, what is it?” His brother bites his lip. “Simply that there are still all these blackberries remaining. True, I don’t have your experience or dexterity my Kai, but I love you with my whole heart and if you’re not too tired………” In answer Kai claims Arthur’s mouth with his own.

The blackberries crushed across his brother’s stiff cock smell of sweetness and nip Arthur’s tongue with their intense tang. Gently he nibbles on Kai’s balls, feeling the exuberant response as tender fingers stroke his face, his neck, his satiny dark hair. Arthur smiles, realising that his lips and tongue are stained as lividly plum as Kai’s – stained with passion and love. He grips Kai’s juicy prick tenderly in one hand, making a ring with his index finger and thumb – then places another slippery hand at the base of Kai’s cock, gently squeezing the bottom of his shaft. When he starts to suck, Kai’s hardness slides succulently in, so that the curve of his cock seems to match the curve of Arthur’s throat. It is fierce and pulpy, savage and moist. This time, Kai’s roar of intoxicating thanksgiving is smothered into the ruinously sticky violet sheepskins….

Llud returns to the longhouse from Olwen’s hut just after dawn. He enters cautiously, but both his sons are already sitting at the table, talking boisterously and hungrily consuming huge slices of bread and cheese. He sighs in relief - not aware until that moment how intently he has been holding his breath. They both look up at Llud and smile. “Here, try some of Leni’s goat’s milk loaf. It’s delicious.” Arthur holds the wooden bowl up towards his father. “In a moment. I just have to fetch my other knife from my weapons chest. I’ll need it today for cutting some new lengths of wicker.” Llud crosses the room and pushes open the bedroom door. Kai grimaces meaningfully at his brother and Arthur presses his hands hard against his nose to try and hush his effusive laughter. There is a heartbeat of suspended silence – then “Holy fucking mother of Pluto.” They can count on one hand the number of times they have heard their father use profanities out loud – undoubtedly he has noticed the state of Kai’s bed…………………….

Later, Llud does indeed thank Pluto that it is just an ordinary day – no machinations from Dirk to deal with, no blustering from Mark, no nonsense from Garet and Gawain. Simply the bundles of kindling wood to be inspected, the supplies of horse feed to be assessed, the warning systems to be examined. Arthur is completely dewy-eyed and Kai simply keeps gazing at his brother as if he has been utterly bewitched. Well, he’s got a surprise for them. Llud waits until his sons are mooning together in the stable, supposedly scrutinizing the feed barrels, and then mutters quietly but firmly to them: “And don’t think that poor old Leni has to deal with those ruined sheepskins when she returns from tending the shepherd’s wife. You can just bloody well take them down to the river and wash them yourselves. After all, you made the mess – you learn to clean it up.” The memory of their astonished alarm will make him smile in amusement for a week.

We ride into Yorath’s village at dusk. My father is hovering anxiously, trying and miserably failing to pretend that he is completely unconcerned. And we are late in arriving. I have ambled along for much of the way, enjoying the autumnal countryside, thinking and dreaming. “So”. Yorath holds my stirrup as I dismount. “Everything is alright?” But he can already tell from my face that it is. I simply stand and smile at him. Then as I turn to go up to my quarters – I am dusty from the journey and need to bath – he puts a hand on my arm, curiosity creasing his forehead. “There’s only one thing that still puzzles me.” I raise my eyebrows. “What exactly did Kai say to you when he visited?” I feel the smile envelop my whole face. “Oh, that you shouldn’t marry someone you think you can just live with - but that you should always marry the one and only person that you will be miserable living without.” Yorath nods thoughtfully. “Yes, a wise young man that one. But that can’t be all the enlightenment he offered to you?” “No Father, in fact it wasn’t. There was something else.” And I repeat the words that years later my husband’s brother will use again one autumn afternoon to mend his niece’s heart: “You can try and close your eyes from the things you don’t want to see but you can never close your heart from the things you don’t want to feel.”


End file.
